


The Legacy

by Nekotsuki



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Most of the lost season people make an appearance in this tbh, The Lost Season was a silly season, also supernatural spooky shit, b/c I am a masochist apparently, but not the major ones, non-consensual drugging, warning: there is character death, why am I writing a follow on from it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekotsuki/pseuds/Nekotsuki
Summary: In the aftermath of their greatest confrontation, one minor detail is overlooked... and it could cost them everything.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring the last of my WIPs over from ff.net. And yes, this is currently being written. I have 3300 words, I WILL GET THERE.
> 
> (...also this is early writing from me and parts of it make me twitch, so. Please forgive it.)

He hadn’t been in this section of the city since the last big fight. 

Leo crouched on the rooftop, hidden in the shadow of the chimney stack, and stared down at the fenced off construction area below. Two months had been enough time for newly condemned, half-destroyed buildings to be torn down and the rubble cleared, but there was still a lot more to be done. The mystic changes that the … demon Shredder, he supposed … had wrought across the city had faded as the creature’s power had, but that did not change the fact that the physical damage done had been all too real. As ninja, he and his brothers could strike from the shadows and fade again, leaving little mark to the surroundings. As _dragons--_

He still had difficulty with the idea, sometimes. Things had gotten very strange. In many ways, he was glad they’d been able to move on so easily. Events had shocked everyone. The Foot hadn’t shown their faces since then; neither had Bishop. Even the Purple Dragons were keeping a low profile. It was as if some kind of universal _time out_ had been called. Leo knew why, of course. In the grand scheme of things, his family remained intact and able to move on. Mostly everyone else they’d dealt with – at least where their enemies were concerned - had great losses to recover from. He had no doubt they’d be hearing from them again soon.

After all, that was why he was here. Wasn’t it?

The young ninja let his eyes linger on the deserted construction yard for few more moments, searching for the ambush that _had_ to be there. He could find nothing. Which _meant_ nothing. But even so, he was so much more perceptive now than he had been. He should have been able to detect some trace of his enemies. They had to be there. There was no way – none at all – that she would meet him here alone, no matter _what_ the message had read.

She hated him far too much.

_If Raph knew what I was doing ..._

Leonardo sighed and rose to his feet. He reached a hand back to grip the hilt of one katana, almost for reassurance. 

_This is not going to end well._

Then he dropped silently down off the roof.

-o0o-

She’d chosen to meet him here because it was fitting in many ways. Here was the site of their final battle with her namesake. And here was the last time she’d seen him. Any of them, actually. She’d left the turtles and the old rat alone for the past two months, not out of choice but necessity. The Foot Clan had suffered greatly in the wake of the demon, their numbers greatly reduced, the headquarters all but destroyed; to strike at an enemy while in the grips of such vulnerability was madness. 

She had made the decision to wait. Bide her time. Let them think that their uneasy alliance had somehow dispelled her desire to avenge her father’s exile. Let _Leonardo_ think he had impressed her with his threats and demands. He had spared her life at the last, and she’d spent countless moments since imagining how she might make him regret it. 

In none of her half-formed plots for revenge had she arranged a meeting like this; that she would sit, cross-legged on a floor and just _wait_. But then, things had changed. Greatly.

“Hello, Karai.”

The words were cool, carrying across the dark shed with the same grim humour he’d used the last time he’d uttered them. He was behind her. Despite everything, she smiled. He _was_ good.

There was the sound of wood clattering across the floor to fetch up by her foot. Thin and broken; two halves of an arrow. 

“Got your message,” the turtle added wryly. 

Karai lifted her head at the sound of his swords being drawn. “I believe we have played out this scene before, Leonardo,” she said. “But this time, I have launched no attack on your family. There is no ambush. Will you attack without knowing why I have asked you here?”

There was silence. 

After a moment she stood up, making her way through the darkness to the stand, lighting the candles she’d placed earlier. She moved carefully, feeling his eyes track her across the room suspiciously. She was wearing no armour; wearing nothing more than the simple uniform she’d worn in the days before her father’s exile, her hair held back from her forehead with the same red band. It must surprise him. But she wasn’t here as the Shredder. It was probable, she thought, that she would never claim that name again in any case.

“Must run in the family,” he said at last, more casually. “Your father sent _his_ messages the same way. I don’t appreciate being shot at, Karai.”

“You are more than capable of defending yourself against an arrow,” she countered. “And my ninja were instructed not to fire _at_ you. I trust this was the case?”

“Just tell me what you want.”

She swung around to face him. Leo was a silhouette in the candle light, swords held warily at his side; flame reflected on narrowed eyes in the darkness. She _had_ taken him by surprise. Even now, she knew, he was expecting attack from her Foot ninja. It occurred to her that he had taken a great risk just by coming here – especially if he’d already decided it was a trap. And yet she’d known he would, if he thought he could meet her alone. Noble, predictable Leonardo. Wanting to believe the best of her, despite his hostile words.

So she had made sure of it. The closest ninja that could come to her aid were a full two blocks away. She truly was, for the first time, alone.

“Fight me,” she said suddenly.

He blinked at her. “ _What_?”

“It’s not that confusing, is it Leonardo?” She drew the katana from its place by the candles, dropping the sheath to the ground.

“No. It’s predictable. But …” He gestured around the dark shed uncertainly. “Like this?”

She took a breath. “I offer you a simple bargain. Fight me. There is bad blood between our two clans. There always _will_ be. But I have hurt your brothers enough in the past, and the Foot badly needs time to recover. Eventually, you know we will war again, and I wonder now whether the further damage we do will be …affordable. 

“Unless we settle things here and now.” She stepped forward. “An honourable duel, Leonardo. If you win, the Foot will no longer seek vengeance against your family for the sins of the past.”

“And if I lose?”

Karai lifted her sword and met his gaze with a level look. “Then I will settle with merely taking _your_ life. Either way, your family is safe from me.”

A pretty, rehearsed speech. Not the truth. But she needed this.

_Please, Leonardo. Take the bait._

-o0o-

“Ah! _Aahhh!_ I’m on _fire!_ ”

The shriek was accompanied by glass shattering and then the sound of a heavy splash as a body hit the water. Splinter twitched an ear, glancing up to the thin door that separated him from the rest of the lair. Normally, such a scream might be cause for concern…

“Jeez. Way to go, Mikey.” Donatello sounded exasperated. “Maybe next time try that stunt with _out_ the dinnerware?”

There was a faint snort form Raphael as melodramatic sputtering came from the pool. “You think that’s bad,” he said smugly. “Wait ‘til Leo comes home and finds what’s left of his candles.”

Splinter tried to picture exactly what Michelangelo could have been doing, and then gave up. There were some things better left unknown. He smiled faintly and relaxed once more, settling back to his knees on the tatami mat.

It was late, and Leonardo had yet to return from his rum. This in itself didn’t worry him as much as it might once have done. All of his sons had proven time and again they could look after themselves, and the lair had been stifling for many of them in recent days. Splinter was not about to assume the worst if his eldest son was an hour behind schedule.

_And yet, there is something…_

He bowed his head in concentration. Something small, subtle, had escaped his attention. He examined the dread that rose to mind when he thought of Leonardo’s absence, following it like a small piece of frayed thread until he made a faint connection with the bright flare of his son’s spirit. He was sure. Somewhere in the city, Leonardo was fighting.

Splinter frowned. It was inevitable in their travels that any of his sons would become embroiled in a fight, and Leonardo did not seem particularly troubled. Why, then, did this touch off such concern within him?

“—see what the problem is, I’ll just tell him that _Raphie-boy_ here wanted to be juuust like his big brother— _hey!_ ”

This time the splash was much bigger. The sound of water spattering heavily over the metal walkways shook Splinter out of his thoughts. He sighed. Apparently Raphael had followed his brother into the pool.

_Enough._ He drew the door aside, stepping out into the main room. Donatello was still sitting at the table, head hunched down as if he were trying to pretend very hard that the bodies flailing in the water didn’t belong to anyone he knew. Splinter paced along the walkway to stare down at the two of them, tapping his walking stick once, deliberate, on the metal to get their attention.

Raphael surfaced immediately, one arm snaked around Michelangelo’s neck in a stranglehold, wicked grin intact. “Sorry, Master Splinter. I’ll keep him down.”

“ _Hey!_ That’s not—“

“Leonardo is late,” Splinter said patiently.

Michelangelo subsided into thoughtful silence. Raphael frowned. “Only just. He can take care of himself.”

“Even so…” Splinter paused, searching for the right words. Of all of them, Raphael was least likely to believe in a premonition. And it was true; whatever Leonardo had chosen to involve himself in, he would no longer do so recklessly. But…

Something. He realized. He hadn’t… remembered something.

“Sensei?” There was a brief touch on his shoulder as Donatello joined him with a soft smile. Perceptive. “I could do with some air. I’ll go look for him.”

Raphael muttered something darkly and reached up with one powerful arm, swinging himself up over the edge of the walkway with ease. “Sure, whatever. I’ll give you a hand, Donnie.”

Splinter bowed his head in appreciation, as Raphael turned and grudgingly hauled his younger brother back onto dry land. “Thank you, my sons.”

“Any idea where he went?”

No solid idea, but for the faint impression of dust and great, yellow machines, surrounded by concrete. Splinter hesitated.

“Your last fight as the dragons,” he said at last. “Try there.”


	2. Assumptions Can Be Deadly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In keeping with the author's aversion to action scenes, she writes an entire chapter with nothing but people and turtles beating the shit out of each other.

_This is wrong._

Leonardo straightened, thinking furiously. He didn’t believe for a second that things would ever turn out to be that simple. A duel? Much as he wished it otherwise, an honourable match was no longer Karai’s style. Maybe it never had been. She was up to something.

She was also waiting for an answer.

There was barely enough light to see by. Leo glanced around at the shed. A temporary structure built to keep construction materials out of the rain; plenty of space. No windows, no witnesses. It made him wonder why she had only lit the one candle. 

“Leonardo.” There was an edge to her voice now. He glanced back to meet green eyes narrowed with impatience. “I do not have time for this. What is your answer?”

“ _The Foot will not take revenge for the slaying of their master,_ ” he said, studying her face, flickering in and out of darkness within the candlelight. “Sound familiar to you, Karai? You said that when we first met. I don’t see how trusting your word on this would be smart.”

He’d struck a nerve with that one. Her lips thinned as she took a step backward, gaze suddenly flat. But when she spoke, her voice was soft. “Things change, Leonardo. But in this, believe me: _I did everything I could._ ”

He was tempted to get into a fight of another kind about that. It wasn’t worth it. Instead, Leo drew his swords up with a flick of his wrists, sheathing them quietly across his shell. 

“You asked for a duel of honour?” he said quietly. “You’re not capable.” 

Her eyes widened in fury. “How _dare_ you—“

“You destroyed my home, Karai!” Leo cut her off. “You hurt my family, drove them away and threatened my friends. And before that, you attacked us with your mystics just to hurt us as much as you could! And why? Because we stopped the Shredder from committing _genocide?”_

“ _He was my father!”_ she cried. “Honour demands that you die!”

“And honour first demands that we kill _him_ ,” he countered. “For the death of Hamato Yoshi. By your words, if I were to kill you here the Foot would be honourbound to kill me … and if you kill me, my _family_ will be honourbound to kill _you.” H_ ell, it wouldn’t have much to do with honour; he knew that. Even if he made it absolutely clear to them that it had been his choice, he knew Raph at the very least wouldn’t stop until he gutted her. “Do you really want to do this, Karai? The cycle never ends.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You will.” A tremor ran through her voice. “You must _.”_

“And if I don’t?”

She hesitated, staring at him in the darkness. Then Karai drew herself up, expression resolute. “Once the Foot Clan has recovered its losses,” she said coldly, “Expect the full weight of our blood vengeance to fall upon your family … and those you hold dear.” 

He stilled. Watched her in the candlelight as she smiled tightly, and added, “You can’t protect your human friends as much as your home, can you? Unless you’re willing to confine them for their own safety.”

Threatening April and Casey. It should have sparked fury in him. Not so long ago, it would have - now, all Leo could feel was a cool sense of inevitability. Karai would never get near them. If he had to, he would make sure of it here and now.

Yet there were pieces missing. She’d gone from one extreme to the other; from offering an honour match to outright blackmail. The tremor in her voice. The hesitation. Something else was going on. She just wanted to _fight_ him? Not likely. On the other hand, until he worked out what else was on Karai’s mind, he was willing to let this play out.

“Well, then,” he said, voice dry. “Since it’s clear we’re going to fight one way or the other.”

Karai gave a soft sigh and inclined her head, hair falling across her shoulders as she bowed. He blinked in surprise. Then returned the gesture. 

Conversation was over.

-o0o-

_This is stupid._

They took the rooftops, vaulting over narrow streets and sprinting across concrete and brick. The new moon made the trip dark, but they knew the way well enough by now; most of them had dropped in on the construction areas a few times just to see how the repairs were going. They weren’t in a huge hurry. Not yet, anyway. The night was quiet. Nothing to stop Raphael from stewing with his thoughts as he led the way, his brothers trailing close behind. 

He hadn’t been in that good a mood to begin with, and Splinter’s packing them off to find Leo hadn’t improved things any. Not even an explanation; just that Leo was late _._ Not like it wasn’t a regular occurrence. Hell, they _all_ went topside and lost track of time these days. Sometimes on purpose. Splinter had decreed they keep a low profile after the dragon stuff for a while, which he guessed he could understand, but spending most of their time in the lair was driving them all nuts.

Watching Mikey try and repair his stupid Battle Nexus trophy all afternoon had been exhausting. Mikey setting himself on _fire_ had been kinda cute, but the rest of the day had seriously got on his nerves. Using Leo as an excuse to get out of the lair was fine with him … he just didn’t understand why Splinter was so concerned about it. Or why Splinter hadn’t seen fit to explain it to them.

Raph cleared the next jump and landed heavily on the top rail of a fire escape, gripping the metal between his fingers to keep his balance. He spoke casually. “Hey. Don.”

“Yeah?” The voice came from behind and above him. Don hadn’t made the jump; he was leaning over the edge of the roof and peering down. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much—“

“ _Wahoo!_ ” They both snapped up to look at the blur of green hurtling across the alley way, orange ends of his mask streaming out behind him. Michelangelo smirked down at them and sailed out of sight, landing with an audible thump on the next roof. 

“Apart from Mikey,” Raph amended wearily. “You know what’s spooked Master Splinter?”

Donatello gave him a cheerful smile. “Not a clue.”

“Oh, that’s real helpful. You jumped to help him quick enough.”

“Doesn’t mean I know what’s bothering him, Raph.” Donny gave a shrug, looking thoughtful. “But you know, Sensei’s instincts are always on the level. And you know what Leo’s like. Half the time I think all he has to do is _look_ at someone the wrong way and he has an enemy for life.”

Raphael grinned. He wasn’t going to argue about Leo’s ability to get on people’s nerves. 

“He didn’t seem _too_ worried,” his brother continued. “I mean, he could’ve sent us packing straight off with an order. I’d guess Master Splinter isn’t too sure himself—“

“You guys comin’ or what?” Mikey’s voice floated back, sounding impatient. “It’s just another couple blocks.”

Donatello straightened and launched across the gap, landing next to Raph for a moment before jumping again for the roof. “Coming, Mikey.”

Raphael grunted and climbed upward, grabbing hold of Donny’s hand to haul himself over the edge. “It’d be nice if just once I knew what was gonna go wrong before it did, y’know?”

“Read you loud and clear on that one, bro.”

“Uh… _guys?”_ Mikey again. Raphael straightened and was about to snap something rude back when he caught the nervous edge to his youngest brother’s voice.

Something was wrong. 

Donatello had already turned, sprinting across the roof. Raph gave quick chase, trying to pick out the shapes he could see on the other side. Michelangelo he could pick out easily enough, the orange ends of his mask standing out even in the near darkness. Raph could pick the blur of Mikey’s nunchucks as they spun expertly in his hands. 

He wasn’t alone. There was the faint shift of movement beyond him; a glimmer of deep red and edged metal. Raphael bared his teeth, sai gripped in both hands before he knew it, skidding to a halt at Michelangelo’s right as Don flanked him on the left. “Back off!”

The figure didn’t move, face shadowed completely by its straw hat. One of Shredder’s Elite. The spear the ninja held was thrust toward Michelangelo, held perfectly still. He wasn’t attacking. Not yet, anyway. His voice, soft and sibilant, took them all by surprise.

“ _No interference._ ”

Raph swore under his breath. He suddenly had a very good idea what their fearless leader was up to. 

_Leo, you are_ so _dead._

“Guys!” Don’s voice was sharp. “He’s not alone.”

Raphael glanced sideways at the encroaching shadows. Foot ninja. Big surprise. At least six on his side, fanning out to surround them. There’d be plenty more. At least they seemed the regular everyday kind. 

He shifted slightly to have Mikey more at his back, giving his sai a lazy twirl. “Figures. These guys only ever run in packs.”

“ _I’ll_ say,” Mikey said cheerfully. “Don?”

Then he lashed out with one fist, slamming his weapon down hard along the spear. The chain caught and wrapped around the shaft. Mikey grinned and _yanked;_ the Elite kept hold of the spear, pulling it taut between them. 

Green fingers caught hold of the shaft in a firm grip. Donatello vaulted between them, balancing his weight across the spear’s length just long enough to slam both feet into the Elite’s face and send him flying.

Mikey let go as the purple-clad turtle dropped to his feet and gave the spear an experimental swing. “Thanks, Mikey.”

“Hey! What are friends for?”

The heavy sound of the Elite landing was the only signal their enemies needed. The Foot ninja attacked en masse. Raphael cursed and thrust a sai out to block a sword strike aimed at Mikey’s back, kicking the ninja viciously in the gut. He wasn’t in the mood for grandstanding. The Elite wouldn’t be taken down so easily, and he’d been alone; it had to be a matter of time before the other three bastards showed their faces. 

“No messin’ around!” he yelled. “Take ‘em down as quick as you can. They’re here to stop us gettin’ to Leo.”

“Leo?” Michelangelo sounded confused.

“Just do it, Mike. Trust me.”

Three on to about twenty, from the looks of things. Not bad odds, provided no more showed up. Raph had a bad feeling about that. Why only one Elite? Weren’t they usually together?

_Unless they’re spread out for some reason._ _Maybe watching different routes?_ He took another two down with a split kick and then dropped, sweeping the legs out from under a third before smacking him in the face with a sai hilt. _Were they expecting us, or were they waiting for someone else?_

At least these days he could count on being far more skilled than the average Foot ninja. But it was the sheer weight of numbers that would wear them down in the end. Couldn’t blame the enemy for being smart.

He heard the crack as Don swept his new toy around. Donny wasn’t making a sound. Had taken Raph at his word, or worked out for himself what was going on – duh, Donny was the _smart_ one – and was putting them down as fast as he could. Couldn’t see Michelangelo, but knew his younger brother was still at Raph’s back, watching out for him just as much as Raph was watching out for Mikey.

Twenty wasn’t so bad. They’d had much worse odds and been pretty much untouched.

Then Raph heard the whistle. Thin and piercing and distinctly a signal. 

_Oh, crud._

Reinforcements were on their way.

-o0o-

Leo was no stranger to fighting in the dark. He was beginning to suspect he was much better at it than Karai. With one candle to see by he only saw glimpses of her; flame glinting off sword and chain and her eyes as she attacked him. He kept to the darkness as much as possible out of sheer wariness, one sword held at guard. Circling. Trying to work out what was really going on.

She wasn’t fighting the same way. The same style, _yes_. But there was more force to her attacks than he remembered; overreaching, maybe? It would account for her strikes being slightly off. It threw him for a while until he became used to the differences. Then he was absorbed in trying to work out _why._

The chain flashed out of the gloom at him and he struck it aside with ease, ducking left as she followed through with the blade. She passed close enough for an unfamiliar smell to hit his nostrils as the ends of her red headband slapped across his chin. Incense. Not that odd, given where she hailed from, but he didn’t recall it before this. She slid to a halt and swung her sword backhanded, aiming for his face. This time he parried, snaking out his free hand to catch her by the wrist. 

Karai hissed as if he’d burned her. “Don’t you _touch_ me!”

“What? Karai—“

He heard the thud as her sword hit the ground. Her hand twisted in his grasp, digging sharp fingers into his own wrist. He gritted his teeth, and was taken by surprise when her other hand snaked up to grab him by the arm. 

A moment later he went crashing into the wall. Corrugated iron buckled underneath him as he tumbled to the ground. Leo caught a knee beneath him, shaking his head to the clear the sudden ringing sound, and staggered to his feet. 

_Ouch._ Not so off kilter after all. Reckless, though. She’d dropped both weapons to do that. The soft scrape in the dark told him that Karai was picking them up again even now. 

“Finally warmed up?” he asked wryly.

Her voice was flat. “Do not mock me, turtle.”

Leo drew his other sword. 

She struck, leaping at him with sword slicing down in an attempt to cleave him in two. He caught the blade between his two crossed katana and snapped a kick into her midsection, sending her backward with a gasp. It earned him all of two seconds before she attacked again and he ducked, the chain slamming into the wall where his head had been. 

_Yeah. Warmed up, all right._

She met him on even ground after that, all cool focus and lethal steel; the way she’d attacked him when they first met. It made her dangerous in a way that fighting her as the Shredder had not been. Leo could hold his own, but he was having difficulty pressing any advantage. And he was beginning to form a suspicion now. One that didn’t really explain what she was doing, but nevertheless was one he wanted to confirm. He just had to get close enough to do it.

He switched to complete defense, jumping back once, twice, out of her reach. When she finally switched to the chain again, he was ready. His left katana thudded into the packed dirt of the floor; Leo’s free hand snatched at the heavy links as they shot past his face, wincing as the speed of the metal scraped along his palm. His fingers closed around the chain and _pulled_. 

Karai stumbled forward into his path with a faint sound of shock. His right hand came down, slamming the hilt of his remaining sword crossways along her shoulder. Leo jumped, his weight coming down on the sword as he vaulted over her, chain still gripped in his other hand. He tried not to flinch at the sudden crack of bone underneath his hand – probably had done damage to her collarbone. Better than the alternative. She’d been so off guard a moment ago he might easily have pulled her straight onto his sword. 

Which troubled him more, come to think of it.

Leo balanced for a split second over Karai’s shoulder and then twisted, coming down on his feet behind her, closer to the candle. The chain settled around her shoulders with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t an expert with a fighting chain. He didn’t need to be in this case; just needed to hold her long enough to confirm his suspicions. 

Before she could untangle herself, Leo yanked her into the direct candlelight. 

Her face was thinner than he remembered. She was too pale, but for faint blotches of high colour on her cheekbones. He hadn’t been wrong, then. The warmth of her skin under his hand when he’d grabbed her by the wrist had been uncomfortably high.

Leo let go of the chain and let her retreat back into the darkness. 

“I wondered why you only lit the one candle,” he said. “Why hide it?”

“This changes nothing,” she shot back. 

“Wrong. You’re sick.”

“Sympathy for the enemy, Leonardo?”

“Wrong again,” he corrected, finally letting his irritation show. “You wanted to fight for honour? Are you _stupid?_ There’s no point in fighting you the way you are now, Karai. Your skill is erratic at best. I could have gutted you a few seconds ago.”

_“Why didn’t you?”_

That stopped him in his tracks. The words were angry, shot through with the hatred he’d come to expect from Karai. But underneath both, a sense of something else he couldn’t quite name.

She was moving. Circling him in the darkness. Moving away from his second katana, still embedded in the ground. He understood she was giving him time to retrieve it. Karai had every intention of still fighting. 

Now, he was confused. 

“I assure you, Leonardo,” she said at last, more calmly. “I am more than capable of fighting you in an even battle. Reclaim your sword.”

“Karai?” He was quiet for a moment, struggling with the concept. “…Do you _want_ me to kill you?”

“No.” Her voice was flat. 

_Then what_ do _you want?_ She was running at least a mild fever. Maybe it was high enough that her judgment had been clouded entirely.

“Your collarbone is probably cracked,” he said after a moment. “Go home and recover, Karai. I give you my word; if you want to continue this when you are well—“

She was blindingly fast. Leo barely had time to deflect the blow when it came. Her sword crashed against his with surprising force, sending him stumbling backward in shock as she spun, bringing the sword down again. His remaining katana went flying, jarred out of his fingers painfully in his belated attempt to parry.

_Too fast—_

Hands closed on his throat.

“Mutant,” she hissed into his face. “I am _not sick._ ”


	3. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna just add some tags as I go.

Donatello didn’t have the luxury of doing an actual head count, but they were definitely outmatched. He put down two ninja and another three appeared to take their place, and while so far he’d taken only a couple of glancing blows – bruises at worst – eventually their luck would run out. Of course if they were lucky, they’d start running out of people to hit by then. At least only two of Shredder’s Elite were here; he supposed he should be happy the _other_ two hadn’t shown their ugly faces. 

They were in enough trouble as it was.

He’d fought with the stolen spear until some enterprising ninja had sliced it in two, and then he’d flung it over the side of the roof, edging back toward Michelangelo as he drew his bo. The look he received from the spear-wielding Elite was priceless. He didn’t take the time to gloat. _No interference,_ they’d said.Raph had been on the money; if the Foot were here to attack them in force, and Leo was only two blocks away, then odds were very good that their fearless leader had earned himself a world of trouble.

Donatello wasn’t prone to mystical hunches, but even he knew something bad was going down. He was sure this hadn’t been a planned ambush; if that were the case, they’d have seen all four Elites by now. He had a suspicion the other two were on the other side of the construction site; spread out to avoid any and all interruptions to the main event. And that just made him nervous.

Leonardo should have been smart enough to avoid a situation like this. But then, Leo never did have a very clear head where Karai was concerned—

“Donny, _look out!”_

He jerked his head up at Raph’s shout and caught sight of the flash of metal skimming along the roof toward him. Shuriken. He struck two aside with the bo. Two more thudded into the wood a bare inch from his fingers. One caught the edge of his shell ridge and deflected, leaving a thin, stinging scratch along his shoulder. Donny winced and spun the bo once in his fingers, cracking the ends into his current opponents as he tried to catch sight of the shuriken wielder.

One Elite stood atop the roof fire door, glaring balefully down at him. No weapon. Donatello offered him an apologetic smile and dived back into the fray. The other Elite waded through ninja toward him, his twin-bladed axe held high in challenge. 

They were both targeting him. Why?

He got his answer a few moments later, when the axe crashed down toward his head. He managed to catch the haft with the bo staff, leaning back from the sharp blade close to his face, muscles burning with the effort of holding up the heavier weapon. His vision blurred. Donny blinked, trying to clear it. 

Then without warning, his legs gave way. 

The shuriken. Poison. 

The weight was gone suddenly, the Elite drawing back, watching with gleaming eyes as he tried to struggle back upright and instead fell entirely, sprawling face first on the concrete. Too dizzy. He kept trying. Going down now was _bad –_ the odds were bad enough without taking him out of the fray. He still had the bo in his hands. He didn’t have the strength to lift it. 

_No fair…_

Mikey was yelling something he couldn’t quite catch—so tired—

-o0o-

“ _Donny!_ ”

The axe lowered carefully, one blade resting along the ridge of Donny’s shell. The Elite kicked the bo out of the fallen turtle’s reach, and then lifted his gaze to stare Raphael in the face. The Foot ninja drew back, surrounding them warily. Mikey shifted from one foot to the other in sudden nervousness; not being attacked was _good_ , but even a child could work out what was coming next. His eyes went to Donny, flat on his face and unmoving, and his breath caught with fear. _Shell._

At least he still seemed to be breathing. He hoped. Wasn’t much point threatening him if he was dead, after all. Mikey lowered his nunchucks and glanced back to Raph uncertainly. Question was: how smart was Raph going to be about this?

“Surrender your weapons,” the Elite said flatly. 

“You sonuvabitch,” Raph snarled, taking a step forward. “What the hell did you do to my brother?”

“I will not ask twice.” 

The axe lowered further, scraping the shell itself. Raphael went rigid with fury. 

“Do not force us to kill him,” the Elite continued. “He will recover soon enough. But now, we are _ending_ this fight.”

“Wow.” Michelangelo grinned nervously. “Is that like your quota of speech for the year?”

The crimson eyes shifted to him, unreadable. He swallowed, bunching the nunchucks in one hand. And then tossed them, as gently as he could, past Donny to fetch up by the fire door. He tried not to cringe as the other Elite dropped down to the roof and collected them.

Raphael glared at him. “Mikey—“

“Had us outnumbered anyway, bro,” Mikey said carefully, giving Raph an almost pleading look. “They don’t have to be this nice about it.” 

Also translated as: _Dear Raph, kindly hold on to your temper until there isn’t an axe digging into Donatello’s back, mkay?_ He knew how Raph felt; throwing away weapons could be suicide. But the weird thing was the Foot _were_ being nice. Well… sort of. The Elite had both turned and teamed up on Donatello, but they’d been pretty restrained about it. Almost like they were trying to force a cease fire. 

It was either that, or Karai had changed tactics drastically and wanted them all in one piece, for whatever reason. He could think of plenty of supervillain plots that tended to start that way …

Mikey swallowed again.

His brother gave a soft growl, fists clenched around his sai hilts. Then he flung them away viciously, letting them clatter off into the darkness. 

“Fine,” Raph said shortly. “Now what?”

The Elite lifted the axe and backed away. The invitation was obvious. Mikey hesitated, and then crouched down to slip his arms around his brother. Donny was limp in his grasp, but definitely still breathing. Mikey slung an arm over his shoulder and hauled him upright, tapping his cheek hopefully. “Donny? You in there?”

To his relief, his brother’s eyes opened a crack, heavy-lidded and unfocused. “S’ry,” he breathed.

“Nobody’s blamin’ you, Don.” Raph stepped in front of them both, hands bunched into fists. He glared at the Elites. “It’s not like these guys ever play fair.”

Michelangelo kept a hold of his brother and glanced up, peering curiously at the ninja that surrounded them. Nobody was moving. Weird notions of gentle Foot ninja aside, he was pretty sure that this was the point someone was meant to say something like _‘Take them away!’_ or _‘Nyahaha, now we will have our revenge!’_ … not this dead silence.

“Um ...” he ventured. “Any reason we’re all just standing around? Like … what happens now?”

The Elite seemed more inclined to answer him than Raphael. He spoke softly. “We wait.”

“Wait for what?” Raphael snapped. 

_Orders._

Leo’s voice sounded clear as a bell in his head, which made Mikey grin. The smile faded after a moment. He might not be as quick to catch on, but Leonardo’s absence was a big enough hint on its own. “So,” he said quietly to Raph. “Karai’s meetin’ with Leo. And she wants privacy. So we have to just hang out until they’re done … am I close?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Raph looked like he was sizing up the odds of just throwing himself at the Elites bare-handed. For now, he was settling on staying between his brothers and the enemy. “Depends on what you call _meetin’_.”

There weren’t _that_ many options. Maybe Leo and Karai were just talking. Or maybe they were beating the snot out of each other – if that were the case, Mikey had absolute confidence in Leo’s ability to win. He’d already done it once, after all.

So hopefully, everything would be okay. Right?

Unless she was somehow seducing Leo to the dark side. Shredder – the original, still the scariest as far as he was concerned - had tried that once. That would suck. But unlikely to work. 

Or maybe she was just seducing him, period. 

Michelangelo snickered. _Bad image, don’t go there._ He looked up to find Raph glancing back at him with a disbelieving look. Raph wasn’t the only one. The Elite with the axe was practically staring a hole through him. He guessed laughing in a situation like this was sort of awkward…

“So,” he said brightly. “Anyone up for a game of I Spy?”

-o0o-

Her breath was hot on his face. He wasn’t quite sure _how_ they’d ended up like this – sprawled flat on the dirt, Karai astride his stomach, hell bent on throttling him to death. Leonardo didn’t much care at this point. She’d acted faster than he had anticipated, more than he’d thought she was even capable of, and that definitely deserved a lot of consideration at some point in the near future …

…but for now, all he wanted to do was _breathe_. 

His hands wrapped around her wrists to begin with, striving to pull her fingers away from his throat. Her skin was too warm, covered with a thin veneer of sweat. Karai was definitely sick. It wasn’t knowledge that was helpful right now. Green fingers slid without purchase on her forearms. He twisted underneath her in a vain attempt to throw her off and felt her fingers tighten, hot against the vulnerable flesh of his throat, her fingernails stinging as they punctured his skin. He couldn’t see her face; could barely see anything beyond the halo of light around her hair from the candle flame. Could hear the ragged sound of her breath as she choked the life out of him. Could smell incense, too sweetly cloying, accompanied by another dry, sickly odor that took him by surprise. 

He couldn’t draw breath at all. She was far too strong, and that was unsettling, but that didn’t mean he was out of options. He would have apologised first if he’d been able to get the words out - but if Karai was truly intent on killing him this way, then he had no real compunctions about what he would do here to save his life.

Leonardo gritted his teeth and slammed his right palm up into her damaged collarbone as hard as he could. 

Bone cracked further under the force of the blow. Karai screamed. Her hands fell away from his neck as she tumbled backward. Leo allowed himself one short, sweet gasp of air before he lurched upright and swung with his other hand, shoving her away from him. Then he rolled, coughing in harsh spasms that burned his throat, looking for the sword she’d knocked from his grasp. 

There was a glint of metal in the candlelight and he snatched for it, hands closing around the hilt as he heard her speak, words angry and laced with pain. “Mark my words, Leonardo. You will pay for that.”

The fingers on his right hand were too tender to hold the sword easily. He switched it to his left and said nothing, turning to watch as she picked her own blade off the ground and staggered to her feet, barely standing upright, right arm clutching at her shoulder. The sword dangled limply from her left hand. He’d broken the collarbone this time. She wouldn’t be able to fight; not effectively.

She was advancing on him just the same.

“Karai...” Leo put his free hand up to his throat as his voice cracked, and winced. His neck would be badly bruised after this. He continued hoarsely, “You can’t win. Not like this.”

“Then finish me,” she retorted. “If you can. You barely breathe and your right hand is useless. Do not presume to tell me that I cannot _win._ ”

_That’s a far cry from a broken collarbone._ But he said nothing, circling her warily, refusing to underestimate her a second time. He’d done so a few moments ago and she’d nearly strangled him to death. It wouldn’t have been a pleasant way to die. 

Yet she could have finished him a lot more cleanly. Karai had moved so fast earlier that she had disarmed him in two hits. But she’d never followed through with a third attack. Instead, she’d dropped her weapon and attacked with her bare hands - a strong, vicious attack that reeked of sheer hatred. Which he understood, he supposed, given everything she blamed him for, but she could have done far more damage with the sword in hand. It wasn’t Karai’s style. It didn’t make _sense_.

Then again, neither did the erratic way she’d been fighting for the past hour. 

His voice had been reduced to a whisper. “Karai? What’s really going on?”

“You don’t know?” she said scornfully. He heard the tremor underneath, not carefully hidden enough. “And to believe my father once credited you with being astute.”

She attacked him before he could retort, a wide clumsy slash that he easily avoided, ducking beneath it to deliver a kick to her stomach. Karai went flying with a soft, pained sound. The sword dropped from her fingers to land in the dirt. 

Leo straightened, staying where he was as she tumbled and fetched up in a small heap by the candle stand. “Assume I’m stupid,” he said. “The only thing _I_ understand is that you’re afraid of something.”

The moment she flinched, he knew he’d struck a nerve. Karai struggled to her feet, breathing hard. The look she directed at him was pure malice. 

Something skittered in the gloom. The candle flared, and then went out.

-o0o-

Time ticked past, maddeningly slow. 

Raph knew where his sai were. He’d marked the sound as they’d clattered across the roof. It was still tempting – now that the bastard with the axe had backed off from Donny – to dive for them and pick the fight up where they’d left off. The element of surprise might let him take down just enough Foot ninja for them to get the hell off the roof and run – find an alleyway where the battleground was to their advantage, or even try and make directly for the construction site; find Leo first and then fight, the four of them…

Tempting, but not realistic. Donatello was in no shape for either option. Even if they stayed on the roof and fought, they’d be hampered by protecting him. Angry and hotheaded Raph might be, but he wasn’t going to doom them all to a suicide run just to prove a point. So he bided his time, matching the axe-wielding Elite stare for stare. He didn’t buy the whole ‘uneasy truce’ thing – the moment Karai turned up, she’d order them all killed. 

The Elites just didn’t want to act without orders. That was all.

So he was preparing himself. Donny was recovering now; had lifted his head with a faint groan just a few minutes ago – which effectively shut Mikey’s attempts at lame humour up, which was a blessed relief – so their chances of success came down to _time._ Another ten minutes and Donny might be well enough to act. If Karai did order their deaths, she’d have one hell of a fight on her hands.

_If_ Karai came back. 

Now _that_ was an interesting thought. If Karai and Leo were actually fighting … maybe Karai wouldn’t come back at all. Raph wasn’t sure if Leo would go so far as to kill her, but …

…it could be Leo who came back to this rooftop, looking for them. Raphael grinned. That would be a lot messier for everyone involved, but at least it would mean that Leo kicked her sorry ass. And with all four of them, they could at the very least hold their own long enough to get out of here.

_And if Karai does come back? What does that mean for Leo?_

A sudden hand on his shoulder saved him from having to think that one through. Raph turned sharply, and then relaxed at Donatello’s sheepish smile. At least his brother was standing on his own two feet again. 

“You okay?”

“Embarrassed,” Donny said softly. “I think … I’ll be fine.”

“I gotcha.” He glanced across the roof to Donny’s bo, still by the feet of the Elite with the axe. The other Elite was _holding_ Mikey’s nunchucks, which made retrieving them a little difficult. Raph met Mikey’s gaze and was met with a faint shake of his baby brother’s head. Apparently, Mikey didn’t think fighting right now was a very good idea.

Hell, he was probably right. Raphael sighed. He’d wait a little longer. If he had his timing right, Donny had been out of it just under an hour; some sort of quick-acting sedative, maybe? He wasn’t a poisons expert. But Donny was clearly recovering fast. It gave weight to the theory that the Foot had just wanted to stop the fight before more casualties piled up. 

Maybe he could afford to be patient. 

_Patient, hell._ Maybe these guys were open to some one on one fighting. He opened his mouth to suggest as much… and then shut it as he heard the unmistakable sound of a person landing on the far edge of the roof. Landing badly, at that; he heard the faint hiss of pain, and his heart sank as he recognised the distinctly feminine voice.

The new arrival was not Leo. 

“Foot ninja …”

Though dark, there was enough lighting on the roof for them to see the unmistakable profile of Karai as the Foot parted to make way for her. She was hurt; hand cupped around her left elbow, arm hanging limply. There was something dark, glistening faintly, smeared across her jaw. Finger width. Blood. 

It wasn’t the only blood on her. He could smell it from here, even if he couldn’t see it. Next to him, Donatello’s breath hitched. 

Karai found Raph’s gaze in the gloom, her mouth twisting. “I see,” she said thinly. “Then Leonardo was followed after all.”

As quick as Raph’s fury was to rise, Michelangelo was ahead of them all, surging forward, voice panicked. “ _What did you do to my brother?”_

Swift to react, the Foot closed around Karai in protection as she turned away. Raphael wasn’t sure why he did what he did; he reached out to snag Mikey’s arm and draw him back, not saying a word. His eyes were on Karai’s face. Pale, eyes too wide and dark. Shock. He’d seen that look before, not that long ago. 

“Foot ninja,” she said again, addressing the Elites. “You have done well. Find your brethren and ensure there were no further complications.”

The two Elites bowed, and then vanished. Raph glanced at the roof where they’d been standing. Mikey’s nunchucks were placed neatly on the concrete. 

How polite.

“You have been inconvenienced, and for that I apologise.” It took him a moment to realise Karai was addressing them; she was still staring off into the distance. It took another moment for her words to sink in. _Inconvenienced_? “My ninja were to stop interference at all cost, but I was intending to make a promise to your brother. It would be… dishonourable… if my promise to him were broken before it were even established. You are free to go home.”

“Go home, hell,” Raph said finally, eyes narrowing to slits. “What promise? Where’s Leo?”

She finally turned to meet his gaze again. “Where I left him.” 

“What—“

“You do not have _time_ to waste on me, Raphael,” Karai said, voice hard. “Tell Leonardo… tell him I will collect on our agreement… another time.”

She faded back into shadow before he could retort. He glanced around at the suddenly empty roof. Gone. They were alone.

“Ninja fuckin’ vanish,” he said bitterly. 

“Leo.” Mikey shook Raph’s arm off, worried. “Is that blood—“

“Could easily be hers. She was wounded. Leo’s alive, Mikey,” Donatello said calmly as he made his way forward to the bo, lying deserted on the roof. He crouched down to reclaim it carefully. “She wouldn’t have left a message if he wasn’t. You guys need to hurry. Get down to the construction site … I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

Michelangelo took off at a sprint, pausing long enough to scoop his weapons off the roof and clearing the street. Raph collected his sai and hesitated long enough to give Donny a measuring glance. “You’re okay, right?”

“Okay enough to be walking, not okay enough to be leaping tall buildings.” Donny waved him off with a strained look. “I’ll take the stairs. Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Raphael turned and followed his baby brother across the rooftops. Leo might not be dead, but he was obviously hurt. They had to get him home. 

_Leo…_

He swallowed, forcing the uneasy feeling that rose in his gut down again. After all, Mikey was the frightened one. 

_…you fucking idiot._

Raph would just settle for being angry.


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. Warning for blood in this chapter.

Something had gone decidedly wrong. A gap, a lack of connection between what he remembered and what was happening _now_. There was talking, close by. Not Karai. He couldn't place the voice, but the accent was familiar. Someone that he knew speaking through layers of shadow, and it was a long time before Leo finally placed the speaker as Raphael. Which disconcerted him. Why _Raph_ was here and Karai _wasn't_ seemed less important than the realisation that he hadn't recognised his own brother.

He could feel hands on his arm, shaking him, before the touch vanished abruptly and Raph spoke again, his voice low and flat. “Don’t. Go flag down Don, let him know where we are—“

“I don’t think he can _miss_ us, somehow.”

Michelangelo. Two of them were here. Where was Don?

“Fine, but don’t touch him.”

Raph sounded annoyed and Mike sounded worried, and he had no clue why. Karai wasn’t here anymore. He tried to remember why and came up short. Had he won? Maybe his brothers had chased her off. Or maybe …

He was tired. Felt like he’d been sleeping a while. Maybe he’d dreamt the fight. He smiled wryly. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Don wasn’t here. Something had happened.

Leonardo opened his eyes to darkness and pinpricks of light and realised he was staring at the sky. Which wasn’t right. He’d been fighting in a construction shed, hadn’t he? There was something sharp underneath him, biting uncomfortably into his arms and legs. He couldn’t work out what it was – focus kept sliding away. 

“Leo?” A blur of red and green blotted out the stars suddenly; Leo closed his eyes at Raph’s appearance. Dizzy. “You there?”

Mikey sounded frightened now. “There’s a lot of blood—“

“Shut _up_ , Mike.” Raph’s voice softened. “I know. But it coulda been worse. Guess she at least tried to—“

“’m here,” Leo managed finally. “I’m…”

The word _blood_ took time to hit home. He shot a hand out, finding Raph’s shoulder. Fingers ached as he scrabbled for purchase, finally latching on to his brother's carapace. His attempt to sit up was met with a white-hot stab of pain up his right side, and Leo shuddered. He would have fallen back if Raph hadn’t grabbed hold of his arm, other hand bracing his shoulders to lower him gently down again. The sky was spinning, stars blending into one another in a way that he couldn’t watch. He swallowed against sudden nausea and started to realise the obvious. He’d been hurt. Badly.

“Stay put,” Raph ordered tersely, one hand pressed flat to Leo’s plastron. “Don’s on his way.”

It didn’t make sense. He’d had the upper hand; there was no way Karai could have hurt him so badly with a broken collarbone. Unless she’d had someone there all along, that he’d missed somehow in his careful sweep of the place.

“Doesn’t make sense.” His voice was barely there, and he had trouble remembering why until Raph’s gentle inspection of his neck set off small, needling stabs of pain. Karai’s grip, far too strong. Something was seriously messed up. 

“What doesn’t?”

_What doesn’t?_

_No! This is not what I wanted!_

Leo blinked. 

He’d had a vague thread of thought. Karai had screamed at him. Or …he’d imagined it. Rehashed old memories of Shredder’s exile, where she’d hurled those words – something like them – as she’d been taken away. 

“Leo?” Raph sounded impatient, now. “What doesn’t make sense?”

Thoughts were gone, frayed away into dizziness and a growing desire to sleep.

“Your accent,” Leo said tiredly. “S’good. For a second …forgot who you were.”

He closed his eyes. 

-o0o-

Donatello stared. 

The construction yard was a mess. The shed had collapsed on one side, the wall buckled outward with the force of whatever had punched a hole through it. One of the neatly stacked brick pallets in the yard itself had crumbled and scattered across the dirt. 

He picked his way around the bricks, fishing his flashlight out of his bag and turning it on. The light played across the gaping hole – yup, not imagining that – and then across to the haphazard pile of bricks where Raph was crouched down, wiping blood-spattered hands on his kneepads, mouth a tight line. He didn’t look up at the intrusion of the light; just made a noncommittal grunt and moved backward, letting Don get a good look at the sprawled figure next to him.

He took a breath. It wasn’t as bad as he’d initially feared, given Karai’s blood-soaked appearance on the rooftop … but Leonardo was very still in the darkness, black cloth wadded around his left thigh, reeking of blood. He could see the upper edge of a gash trailing up into the tender flesh between plastron and carapace, shallow and ending just after the hip. There was a deep scratch mark trailing up the lower plastron, paralleling the wound. Don frowned. _Gauntlet?_ The wound had already been bandaged, more or less … it didn’t seem to be bleeding more. He’d take a closer look when he could get Leo back to the lair.

His brother’s breathing was even despite the thin whistling sound to it; apart from the leg, the most Leo seemed to suffer from was the bruising at his throat and a few superficial cuts. Don frowned. There’d be more; odds were good that it was _Leo_ who had punched a hole in that shed wall and sent bricks flying everywhere. And Raph had blood on his hands—

“Did you bandage this?” he asked.

“No,” Raph said shortly, voice low. “I think _she_ did. Don’t ask me why.”

Don flicked the light back to the cloth; black. He could see a glint of red – a strip, wrapped twice around the leg, holding the cloth in place. Karai’s headband. 

_This doesn’t make any sense. She tries to kill him and then this?_

More important things to think about; namely, where the blood on Raph’s hands had come from if Raph hadn’t dealt with that wound. He lifted the torch to let the light play over Leo’s slack face, and this time caught the subtle staining of darker red on the bricks. Too much for comfort. 

“Shell,” he muttered. “Where’s Mikey?”

Raph nodded toward the shed. “Huntin’ down Leo’s swords. I figure the sooner we get him outta here, the better.”

Don eased his hand gently along the edge of Leo’s shell, cringing as his fingers met slick warmth along the top curve. He caught the tails of the blue bandana, tangled and stuck to the inner ridge of the shell, and pulled them carefully free. They were soaked in blood. “Has he woken up?”

“…Yeah.” Raph’s eyes were on him now, somber. “Sort of. How bad is it?”

Don wasn't sure. Bad enough that he wished Leo had been able to stay awake; at the very least, his brother would be seriously concussed. Head wounds often looked far worse than they really were – bled like crazy - but he didn’t have the light or the supplies to try dealing with it here. “If he woke up at all, that’s a good sign,” he said carefully. “I don’t think his life is in real danger at this point, but I need to get him home.” 

“Can you even _move_ him like this?”

He didn't have a choice. Don spared a moment to thank the gods that nobody had come to investigate the noise thus far – though that might have a good deal to do with Karai's influence with the police, he wasn't sure – but this was a construction yard, and the workers would start early. At best he'd have maybe two hours before the foreman arrived. As it was, the press might have a field day with the half-destroyed shed and the blood spatters, but as long as he and his brothers were safely back home, it was an indiscretion Don could live with.

Raph didn't wait for an answer. “I’ll call April,” he muttered, standing up. “She can—“

There was a shrill yelp from the shed. 

Don tossed Raph the torch without a word. 

-o0o-

There was more blood inside. Enough that it hadn’t had time to soak into the dirt, collecting in small congealing pools in a crescent shape along the ground. Mikey was desperately trying to wipe his feet on the less soaked dirt, one of Leo’s swords gripped by the hilt. Raph stepped back before he could tread in it himself, trying to work out just how much blood there actually _was_. 

Given more light to see by, Michelangelo took one look at the spread of blood on the ground and made a soft sound, stumbling backward. His brother looked sick. Raph couldn’t blame him; the reek of it was enough to turn his stomach.

“Please tell me that’s not from Leo,” Mikey said nervously.

Raph shook his head. “Fearless ain’t got enough blood _in_ him to do this.”

“And thank you for _that_ , Raphael. _So_ not helping.”

He grinned at that but said nothing, moving instead along the length of the stains on the ground. A _lot_ of blood. Given the way the stain arced out across the dirt, he’d assume maybe a sword stroke with a hell of a lot of force behind it. Maybe even a lethal one – heck, it had to be lethal with so much blood here. Karai had been well enough to travel by rooftop, so it couldn’t be hers. Wasn’t Leo’s either. Someone else had been here.

There wasn’t a body. Either Karai had moved it, or the person had lived. Neither seemed very likely. Raph scowled. He _hated_ shit like this.

“Found the other one,” Mikey called. Raph flicked the torch up to catch the gleam of metal as his brother waved Leo’s other sword at him, weak smile on his face. “Stuck by the wall, and uh …needs cleaning. And there’s some candles here. Romantic dinner for two?”

“Nice. No.”

“Think someone gatecrashed their little get-together?”

“Probably,” Raph said shortly, pulling out the Cell again and dialing April’s number. “Don’t know.” 

“Do you think—“

“I don’t think _anything,_ Mike. I ain’t no detective. Ask Leo when he wakes up.”

Mikey paused, arms cradling both swords to his chest, and gave him a wary look. “…think he’ll be okay?”

“Sure he will,” Raph muttered wryly, staring down at the Cell with a look of ferocious concentration. “Right up until the point I get to ask him why he was such a friggin’ moron in the first place.”

At least Leo’d be able to tell them who else had been here. It certainly wasn’t Karai that had flung his brother through a wall. And if Leo couldn’t tell Raph anything, or chose to be stubborn about it, he was more than willing to go straight to daddy’s little girl herself.

-o0o-

Her uniform had soaked through to the skin. She’d pulled it off in short, sharp movements, refusing to give reign to the impulse to tear it from her frame and throw it into the fire. Temper. _Control_. Karai gritted her teeth, fingers digging into the tile grooves as the hot water sluiced the last of the blood from her hair, staring angrily at her hands and avoiding the sight of washed-out crimson spiraling down the drain.

She’d lost control, at a time when it was imperative that she retain it. Leonardo’s fault, of course. Her left arm hung limply at her side, pain stabbing between neck and shoulder at the slightest movement, the only real injury the turtle had inflicted. He had _toyed_ with her; called it compassion and held back from a real fight until the very end. Did he not hate her? Hadn’t she given him every reason to make an end to their feud then and there?

Damn him _._

He might not have survived the attack. She wondered if her attempt to staunch the bleeding had been successful. She wondered if she should care either way. His family would no doubt consider this an act of war, their two month truce at an end; an irritation she would have to deal with. The turtles were her enemies and would need to be dealt with as such, but at the moment they would be nothing more than a distraction at a time she couldn’t afford one.

_Karai…?_

She reached up with her good hand and spun the hot water faucet, shivering as the shock of ice water splashed across her shoulders, her mouth a tight line, remembering the confusion in his voice.

_Do you_ want _me to kill you?_

There was a timid knock on the bathroom door, sounding twice before falling silent. Her attendant would be waiting in the bedroom for her, supplies ready to treat her broken collarbone. Karai had no doubt that her soiled uniform would have been removed from the room already, with any trace of blood lingering on the carpet disposed of. Word of her bloodstained arrival would no doubt spread quickly. She would have to post instructions with her guards not to let anyone else through the door. The last thing she wanted to deal with tonight was Chaplin’s desperate attempts to check on her welfare.

She could still smell the blood. Leonardo’s, his handprint along her jaw. The _other_ , rich and potent and overwhelming. Things had spiraled out of control. 

She hated him. But she had not wanted this.

Karai stayed under the water until she was shivering, the heat of her skin finally doused. Then she stepped from the shower, awkwardly dressing in a light robe before staring at her face in the mirror. Leonardo had been right – she looked too ill to be fighting. Despite the cold shower, her face still carried the blotch of feverish heat in her cheeks, and she was growing too thin. 

_“You’re burning from the inside out, Karai.”_

The smell of blood grew stronger. She controlled the flinch at the voice that purred by her ear, too familiar, and swallowed once before speaking with quiet fury. “Your interference tonight was unnecessary. I fight my own battles.”

“ _Badly, it seems._ Did _you want him to kill you? I am most curious.”_

Karai spun away from the mirror, ignoring the flash of pain from her shoulder as she flung the door open. The young woman who acted as her attendant jumped to her feet at her sudden appearance, eyes uneasily flicking past her to the empty bathroom before bowing her head deferentially. Irritation surged through Karai at the nervous gesture; she quashed it with a small sigh, sitting carefully down on the chair by the dresser. Whatever the girl might have overheard, she was too well trained to pry.

“You will help me dress the injury,” she informed the attendant flatly. “And then you will leave. Inform the guards that I am to be disturbed by _no_ one.”

She waited in stony silence as her shoulder was bound, staring at the wall, thoughts circling inward. Leonardo, if he had survived, would take some time to heal, and the fact that she had dressed his wound would at least give his family pause. Likely they would not actively seek answers until Leonardo’s recovery. That gave her time to work with. Whether days or weeks, she did not know – but she needed the space. Perhaps she ought to move her private headquarters to a lesser known locale, in case one of his brothers attempted to follow in Leonardo’s footsteps and pay her a late night visit… 

... _of course, if I were prepared for such an eventuality, it would matter little. I could surely have them captured or killed should they be foolish enough to try._

Karai frowned. No. Better, given the evening’s performance, of keeping as much of a distance between herself and her father’s enemies as possible. She could not afford to lose control again. Her temper must remain tightly leashed. In doing so, perhaps she could find another solution.

The woman spoke to her softly when she was done and – when no acknowledgement was received – left quietly, leaving her alone in the dimly lit room.

After a while, she rose stiffly and began to light the incense sticks in an attempt to drive the smell of blood away.

\---------

From here he had a most excellent vantage point; one clawed foot fastened to the flagpole, he swung gently in the breeze and enjoyed the giddy feeling of being upside down. Echoes reached him of the conversation far below; a woman, voice raised in concern, and gentle assurances from the one in purple. As he watched, two of the green acolytes lifted the one in blue gingerly, treating him with the fragility of fine crystal, and transferred him into the woman’s van. 

He did not know the woman; she was inconsequential. But the four others …

Conceivably, he could attack them here. Attempt to drive a wedge between the four, separate them, kill. One was already grievously injured; surprising them now was a distinct possibility.

He considered it a moment longer, and then smiled lazily. If they _all_ fought like the one in blue, it would be too much of a risk. Better to return when he was stronger – when his mistress had given him far more power.

In any case, these four acted as a team. The others were solitary individuals by nature. Vulnerable. If he struck quickly enough, the accursed masters might never know what was happening until it was far too late.

_First the others. Then I shall return._

He watched the green acolytes until the woman’s van eased out of the alleyway nearby and drove carefully away. Then he twisted upright once more and scaled the wall to the roof, nimble as a cat.

_Miami_ _first._


End file.
